


A Short Season

by Guardian_of_Hope



Series: General Buir and Commander Ad [7]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gen, artifact shenanigans, baby wolffe, deaged clones, deaging fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2018-12-15 16:18:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11809653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guardian_of_Hope/pseuds/Guardian_of_Hope
Summary: Jaran Val drops a Force Artifact that only works on non Force Sensitives.  Wolffe makes an oddly endearing grumpy little boy.(Formerly Hazard Strikes Again)





	1. Rescue Mission

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wasn't going to start something new, but this just sounded So Cute. This is set after Innocents of Ryloth, so about the second year of the war, in the Search, Rescue, and Retrieval/General Buir and Commander Ad verse.
> 
>  
> 
> I renamed this because the first title didn't really work for the story.
> 
> "Childhood is a short season." Helen Hayes.

The gunships came under fire as they broke through the cloud cover.  Wolffe discretely steadied General Plo against a particularly violent swerve and tried not to let on how much he hated being stuck on a gunship when the Seps were attacking.

“It will be all right,” General Plo murmured as he readjusted his stance.

“Yes sir,” Wolffe agreed.  He couldn’t quite suppress his sigh of relief as the vents began to open, bringing in air and some of the fine mist that was falling outside.

“We need to land at the entrance of the temple,” Plo called up to the pilot.

“It’s just ahead sir,” Warthog replied.  “We’re moving into landing formation now.”

Wolffe watched as best he could as they came through the trees and up to the temple.  No one had said what the temple had been for, but it didn’t look like the Jedi buildings he’d seen.  It rose at least five stores high, and had a rectangular shape to it, with high thick walls and giant stone doors.  There were towers, two flanking the door, and two at the corners, square and adding at least three more stories to the complex.

When they landed and pulled out, a small door opened in one of the towers, and a dozen _vod_ ran out.  Leading them was a _vod_ with command markings, but one of the more unusual paint schemes Wolffe had ever seen.

“General Koon, Commander Wolffe,” he said, saluting.  “You’d better get inside before the Seps start their evening bombardment.”

“Of course, Commander Saneone,” General Plo said.  Wolffe turned to give the orders to his captains even as he heard Plo add, “I didn’t expect you to be here.”

“General Saje wanted me to go back to the Watchtower,” Saneone replied, “the ambush had delayed my travel.”

Wolffe watched as the men formed into three groups, 501st blue, 212th yellow, and 124th grey, before heading into the temple.  They’d been wrapping up the defense of another planet targeted by the Seps when Master Windu had ordered a rescue mission to this sanctuary moon in the Chandri System.  With only so many abled body, and Cody and General Skywalker both in medical for different injuries, General Kenobi and General Plo had split the three battle groups to cover both duties.

That meant Wolffe only had a third of his usual officers, although he had managed to get his preferred people on the mission.

As they entered the temple, Wolffe winced at the sound of an incoming missile.

“There is one problem, however,” Saneone was saying.

“What problem is that?”  General Plo asked.

“General Val took three squads to bring the relic to the extraction site, and hasn’t reported in yet.  There are tunnels between here and there, it’s why General Val and General Saje chose it, but they’ve been caved in, and we don’t have any air support to get over there.”

“And the pilots?”  General Plo asked.

“Val had two with him, the other four are here.  We’ve got better protection here than there, so we weren’t going to risk giving away the shuttle unless or until we had to.”

General Plo tapped his mask a moment and sighed, “I sense General Val is still alive, although I cannot say much else.”  He turned, “Wolffe.”

“Yes General?”  Wolffe asked, even though he already had a bad feeling about this.

“Take a squad and have one of the gunships bring you around to the other side, find General Val and extract him to the _Liberator II._ ”  General Plo ordered.

“You’ll have to leave at dusk,” Saneone said, “get as close as you can, but you have to land when the planet rises.  It causes some weird magnetic distortions to happen that can knock out your electronics.  It’s why the droids only attack by day, the fields make them blow up if they try to stay running.”

“Noted,” Wolfe said.  “I’ll put together a squad.  Captain Lynx will have command while I’m gone.”

Wolffe moved away, heading to where the Captains were gathered together.  He glanced over his shoulder at the other Commander, but put aside the questions he had about the man’s paint scheme.

“Commander,” Lynx said, “we’re all accounted for and awaiting orders.”

“Good,” Wolffe said slowly.  “Get Star Squad up and over to shadow the General.  I’ve been given a special assignment.  You’re in charge here until I get back.”

“Understood,” Lynx said.

“I’m taking Bexar with me,” Wolffe added.  “Tell him to meet me by the west tower in an hour.”

“Yes sir,” Lynx saluted.

Wolffe moved on to where Captain Wooley waited with the 212th, “Wooley, I need two of your best men for a special assignment.  Have them at the west tower in an hour.  Captain Lynx has the 124th command while we’re away.”

“Understood,” Captain Wooley said with a salute, “I know just the pair.”

Last was Captain Appo, “Captain, I need two of your best for special assignment with me.  Captain Lynx will be commanding the 124th while we’re gone.  I want them at the west tower in an hour.”

“Yes sir,” Appo said.

Wolffe headed back to the General, only for Commander Saneone to intercept him, “If you want to talk to someone about the other site, Trickster’s right over here.  He was the first scout.”

Wolffe considered, and nodded, “Lead the way.”

Trickster was another _vod_ with the same paint scheme as Saneone, a quick glance turned up three others.  “That’s Imp, Mischief, and Mayhem,” Saneone said.

“I’m sorry?”  Wolffe said.

“The other three, Imp, Mischief, and Mayhem,” Saneone said.  “They’re my unit, from the beginning.”

“Oh,” Wolffe said, forcing himself not to look over at the 124th for Sinker.  He understood those bonds all too well.

“Trickster, this is Commander Wolffe,” Saneone said, “He’s got some questions for you.”

“Right,” Trickster said, “anything I can do to help.”

Wolffe did manage to speak with Plo before they left, but it was a short conversation, with Wolffe all too aware of the men in their navy armor who didn’t know him or Plo.

So, by the time they were airborne and under fire from the vulture droids again, Bexar was more than willing to give Wolffe the gunner’s position.

It didn’t help much.

“Sir,” Warthog said.

“What?”  Wolffe snapped.

“Remember how you warned me about the magnetics?”  Warthog said.

Wolffe glanced ahead of them and swore.  The misty rain that had persisted since their arrival was turning into a storm, with near constant cloud to ground lightning, “We need to land.”

“The vultures are retreating,” Warthog said, “and our coordinates are right over there.”  The ship side slipped and then dove, heading for where a hill had been shorn in half, leaving a steep cliff that had a number of cave entrances at the base.

They landed and got out, “We’d better all get into one of those caves and hope we can fly in the morning.  We want the third from the left.”

They all ran for the cave mouth, which proved to be deceptively large when they were crossing the threshold, definitely big enough for the three shuttles that were inside, and the four brothers who pulled blasters as soon as they were spotted.

“Who are you?”  One of the men, with Lieutenant markings, demanded.

Wolffe ripped his helmet off, “Commander Wolffe, 124th battalion under General Plo Koon.  We were sent to get the 124th off this moon.  Where’s the General?”

The Lieutenant, face covered in a diamond pattern tattoo, scrutinized him a moment.  “I’m Creeper, 429th.  General Jaran’s down the tunnel, trying to do something about the cave in.  Nice to see the message got out.”

Wolffe nodded, he gestured to his team, “Our pilot is Warthog, and this is Bexar with the 124th.  We’ve got Waver and Boil from the 212th and Fives and Echo from the 501st.”

“Interesting company,” Creeper said.

“We were wrapping up a join mission when the orders came down,” Wolffe said.  He made a decision, “I’m supposed to speak to the General directly.  Which tunnel is he down?”

“Over here,” Creeper said, “but he should be back soon.”

“And I have my orders,” Wolffe replied, striding towards the indicated tunnel.  “Warthog, stay up here.  We’ll be back soon.”

With his team at his back, Wolffe entered the tunnel uneasily.  He wasn’t his General, to get hunches from the Force, but he did have good instincts all the same, and this made him very uneasy.

They’d barely gone a hundred feet before they met a man coming towards them, he was wearing a clone trooper’s armor, but no helmet, and he wasn’t even remotely like a _vod._ He reminded Wolffe of General Vos, with the same hair type, but while he had face tattoos, they were sky blue and shaped like triangles.  He was also carrying a grey, metal box with a broken strap.

“General?”  Wolffe said, signaling his team to halt.

“What?  Ow!”  The General tripped over something in the dim light and the box fell out of his hands.  It bounced three times with a metallic clang, and then the lid fell off, and a fist sized crystal rolled out, lighting the tunnel from the inside.  “Oh shit!”  The General yelped, “Watch out!”

The light became infinitely brighter, too bright to look at before Wolffe could do more than swing his blaster around.  For a moment, it felt like all of his armor was squeezing him too tightly, and then it expanded, falling away as the light invaded his brain, whisking him away even as he tried to call for his General for help.


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as the light faded, Jaran moved, snatching up the artifact and putting it back into the shielded box.  He’d finally managed to get it out from under the rubble, and what did he do?  Drop it and activate it.

Once the clasps were closed, Jaran looked for the clones who had startled him.  Their paint schemes were familiar, but he couldn’t imagine what sort of orders would have the 501st, 212th, and the 124th out looking for him.

The six clones were sprawled out, but it didn’t look right, their armor was flat and lumpy in all the wrong ways.  Jaran set the box aside and stood up, moving over to one of the 124th clones.  He knelt and eased the helmet off carefully.

Instead of a grown man, this was a child, about six years old.  Jaran set the helmet down beside the boy and turned.

All the clones were about six years old.  Jaran eased back, trying to picture how he was going to explain this to Master Koon, Master Kenobi, or anyone else.  Jaran studied them, wondering how they’d ended up looking for him, and from the way that, Jaran checked the 124th clone, Commander Wolffe then, had said General, they had to have been.

Jaran bowed his head a moment, because even _he_ had heard rumors about Master Koon and Commander Wolffe’s tight bond.

“General?”

Jaran jerked up, turning to check that the artifact was still secure.

“Lieutenant,” he said, turning away from the box, “I’m afraid to report that we have a problem.”

“Please tell me you didn’t lose Commander Wolffe?”  Creeper replied, his voice coming closer.

“Not exactly,” Jaran replied.

“That’s not a promising turn of events,” Creeper said as he rounded the corner.  He studied the scene, Jaran kneeling, and the half dozen piles of armor with the children inside.  “That’s very much not promising, what did you do?”

“I tripped and dropped the box,” Jaran said, gesturing to the artifact box, “one of the catches must have been damaged earlier because the lid came off.”

Creeper shook his head slightly, then gestured behind him, “Ash, get that box back to the shuttles and secure it.  Make sure the General’s stuff is loaded on the other one.”

“Very funny,” Jaran muttered.  “Are the evening storms over yet?”

“No,” Creeper said.

“Then do we at least know why these six were here?”  Jaran asked.

“Their pilot, Warthog, says that General Koon sent them to find us.  They were sent by the Council to extract us and the artifact.”  Creeper replied.  “He’s supposed to ensure you go straight up to the _Liberator II_ with the artifact.  General Koon will see that everyone else gets up to the _Justified.”_

Jaran groaned softly, “Of all the Masters to be here for this, it’s Master Koon.”

“Is there a danger?”  Creeper asked.

“Only in that I’ve cause his Commander to be de-aged,” Jaran said with a bitter laugh.  “This is definitely worse than the cat incident.”

“It might not be as bad as you think,” Creeper said.

A soft noise, followed by the arming of a blaster made Jaran turn back to the six-year-old clones.  Commander Wolffe was sitting up, with his blaster looking ridiculously large in his small hands, but still pointed straight at Jaran.

“Oh,” Jaran said, “it’s definitely worse.”

Creeper popped his helmet as he knelt down, “CT-3636,” he said sharply.

“Who are you?”  Commander Wolffe asked, even as his blaster stayed on Jaran.

“I’m Lieutenant CT-7887, called Creeper,” Creeper said.

“You’re too old,” Commander Wolffe said after a moment, although his blaster lowered slightly.

“Not exactly,” Creeper replied.  “This is my General, Jedi Knight Jaran Val.  He’s kind of the one responsible for what’s happened here.”

Wolffe dropped his blaster into his lap, looking horrified, “I drew, on a _General.”_

“Good instinct,” Jaran said, “I’m not mad about it.”  He paused and tilted his head a little, “I promise, CT-3636, I’m not mad.”

Creeper chuckled, “Believe me, it takes a lot to get the General mad.  But he is responsible.”

“I was carrying a Force artifact,” Jaran said, “and I tripped and dropped it.  The shielded case it was in came open and the artifact activated.”

“You see,” Creeper said, “you’re actually older than I am, CT-3636, you just don’t remember right now.”

“Because of the Force?”  Commander Wolffe asked skeptically.

“Because of an artifact,” Jaran corrected him, he tilted his head, “and the Force.  I’m really sorry about this.”  He glanced at Creeper, “We all need to get back to the hanger.  As soon as the storms are done, I have to report this to Master Koon.”

The other little boys were waking up and Jaran swallowed, hands twitching, “CT-3636, would you help us keep them calm?”

“Don’t you know them?”  Commander Wolffe asked.

Jaran shook his head, “My command is the 429th.  These two are 501st, these two are 212th, and he’s 124th, like you.  I’ve never met them before.”

“3636?”  The other 124th boy said, “What’s going on?”

“It’s okay,” Commander Wolffe said, carefully sliding out of his armor and padding over to the other boy in just the shirt from his blacks, which reached his knees easily.  “It’s okay, vod.  We’re okay.”

Jaran eased back, a bit stunned how the Commander switched from suspicious of them to calming down his brother.  Especially when he knelt and started helping the other boy out of the oversized armor.

The other four were also stirring and Jaran stood, pulling Creeper back.  “I’m going to make them nervous, so I’m going to leave.  You and the others get them, and their armor, back to the hanger.  Tell them what you have to.  You said they had a pilot?”

“Yes sir, Warthog.”  Creeper replied.

“I’ll warn him about what happened and see if we can’t at least get their names straight.”  Jaran said, “They deserve that.”

“We’ll get them moving soon,” Creeper replied.

Jaran nodded and forced himself to walk away.  It was hard, part of him wanted to stay and reassure these kids that he would protect them, but they would surely be more comfortable with their brothers than with a complete stranger.  Instead, Jaran walked away, glancing back to find Wolffe watching him for a moment before his brother distracted him.

Back in the hanger, Jaran quickly picked out the unfamiliar clone, “Warthog?”

“General,” Warthog said, saluting.

“We’ve had a bit of a situation come up,” Jaran replied.

“Sir?”  Warthog asked.

“While Commander Wolffe and his, team, are fine,” Jaran said, “the artifact that Ash brought back activated.  Commander Wolffe and the others are now children, with no memory of what has happened.”

“No memory,” Warthog repeated.

“They look about six,” Jaran said, “and I’d say that’s where their memories would stop.  I only spoke with the Commander though.”

Warthog raised his eyebrows slightly.

“I thought they’d adjust better with familiar, if older, faces, than a Jedi,” Jaran admitted.  He glanced around, taking in the men watching.  “We need to get packed up, if we’re leaving after the storms this evening.”

“The General was rather insistent,” Warthog agreed.

Jaran nodded, “If you’ll excuse me, there are a few things to deal with.”  He paused, “Were you able to land before the storms and shut down?”

“Yes sir,” Warthog said.

Jaran nodded, “All right then.”  He turned away, looking for Ash.  There were things that needed to be done before they could leave.


	3. Chapter 3

Jedi Masters do not panic.  Jedi Masters who sat on the High Council especially did not panic.  Jedi Masters who had spent nearly two years in a war zone leading men into battle had _karking well better not panic._

Plo Koon paused, because if _he_ was swearing, he was not as emotionally restrained as he should be.

Wolffe had reached for him, a moment of uncertainty, seeking reassurance that had been strongly shaded with variations of a need for help, before the link between them became muffled to the point that all Plo could tell was that his commander lived.

When repeated nudging proved fruitless, Plo reached instead for the storm in human form of another Jedi.

Jaran Val, as Plo recalled, was not himself either a natural sender or empath, his skills were more tied into his touch reading.  When Plo made his presence felt to the Kiffar, he was surprised that Jaran’s first response was caution, and then with recognition it became a fearful panic, as if he had not anticipated Plo contacting him yet.  Plo pushed a little further, trying to get a clear thought through about Wolffe and Bexar.

Jaran’s touch faded a moment, and Plo very clearly saw a mental image of a comm unit and the unmistakable sense of _there’s a problem, but I can’t tell you like this.  We need to talk._

Plo sent back understanding and consent and carefully pulled back to find Captain Lynx approaching.

“Captain,” Plo said.

Lynx saluted, “The met reports suggest the storms will be cleared out in two hours.  The 429th is packed and ready.”  He hesitated, “Any word from the Commander?”

“They are waiting out the storm with the General,” Plo replied, “we’ll see them on the _Liberator II.”_   He put any unease at those words aside in favor of turning to the task at hand.  He had enough to do without letting anyone else worry about what was or was not happening with their general and commander.

After walking with Lynx through the preparations for departure, including checking in with the 212th and 501st captains, Plo tracked down Sinker and Boost.  The pair were standing watch in one of the towers, sitting in separate windows of the same room, talking softly as they watched the last of the lightening danced across the sky.

Plo signaled for Lodestar and the rest of his squad to wait outside the room and closed the door to keep them from hearing what he had to tell them.

“Sinker, Boost,” Plo said.

“General,” Sinker said, shifting his spot so that he could look out and be aware of the room at the same time as Boost turned to face Plo fully.

“We may have a problem,” Plo said, “although I would rather not worry the rest of the 124th.”

“What kind of problem, sir?”  Boost asked.

“I am not sure yet,” Plo admitted, “but I would rather you two be prepared for trouble than for us to all be unable to react properly.”

“Is there anything you can tell us?”  Sinker asked.

“We will have to wait until the storm is over,” Plo said, “and see what we find on the _Liberator II._ ”  As he stared at the window, watching the lightening, Plo reached out again for Wolffe.  The link was still muffled, but the wary, cautious tone of Wolffe’s mind was reassuring.  Whatever had happened, Wolffe was neither upset enough to act on it, or hurt.

That was what kept Plo calm as he gathered his men in the aftermath of the magnetic storm and saw them on the gunships.  It kept him from giving in to the urge to take over piloting his gunship when the vulture droids returned.

Finally, they reached the _Liberator II_ and found a battle-scarred shuttle waiting for them painted half navy blue and half russet, as many of the items shared by the 425 th and 429th were.  Jaran Val, still dressed in his armor, was waiting with a Lieutenant in 429th colors who carried a sealed artifact box.

“General Val,” Plo said as he approached.

“Master Plo Koon,” Jaran replied, he gestured to the Lieutenant, “Lieutenant Creeper has the artifact, it might prove better for it to remain with you.”

“Oh,” Plo asked, wondering where Wolffe and the others were.

Jaran rubbed the back of his neck.  “I know that Commander Saneone told you about the cave in that cut us off from the temple.”

Plo nodded.

“The cave in was an accident, the inevitable result of an old, underground structure.  We had enough warning to get us clear, but the sled we were using to transport the artifact and certain other items was caught in the fallen rock.  I had been working with some of the others to clear the sled when we uncovered the artifact.  I was going to place it in the shuttle, given my own history with such artifacts, when I encountered Commander Wolffe and his team.”  Jaran hesitated, “I was, startled, by them and tripped, dropping the box.  We hadn’t noticed originally, but one of the clamps on the lid was damaged in the fall and when I dropped the box, the lid popped off.”

“The artifact activated,” Plo said, remembering certain reports sent to the council after certain retrieval missions.

“Yes Master,” Jaran said.  “It activated, but it only works on non-force sensitives.”

“And what does it do?”  Plo asked.

Jaran actually winced, “They’re, um, age regressed?  They look like they’re six, but with the age thing, they’re maybe three?”

“And who all was affected?”  Plo asked, holding himself still by an act of great will.  He wanted to charge up the shuttle and reassure his sons.

“Commander Wolffe and his team,” Jaran said, “except Warthog, who wasn’t there.  Also, um, they don’t remember anything, except from when they were that age.”

Another good reason for restraint.

Just then Warthog stuck his head out the back of the shuttle, “Generals, um, they need to use the bathroom.”  He leaned back a second, “And Fives would like some pants.”

“The clothes didn’t shrink,” Lieutenant Creeper said.

“Warthog, find Lieutenant Sinker, and have him let them into one of the empty bunks rooms up near my quarters.  They’ll stay there for now,” Plo said.  “If Sergeant Boost is with him, have Boost come retrieve the artifact from Lieutenant Creeper.  General Val and I will inform General Kenobi and General Skywalker of what’s going on.”

Jaran looked like he wished he was anywhere but onboard the _Liberator II._

“Yes sir,” Warthog said and stepped out of the shuttle.  He was followed by six nervous looking boys in the black undershirts all the troopers wore under their armor.  Closest to Plo and Jaran was a little boy that Plo knew was his Commander.

“Koh-toh-ya, Wolffe,” Plo said, moving to kneel before the boy.

“Hello,” Wolffe said carefully.

“I am Plo Koon,” Plo said, “you and I are very dear friends.”

“You’re a General,” Wolffe said.

“That doesn’t mean that we could not become friends,” Plo replied.  “I know this must be strange for you, but I know that we will sort this out quickly.”  He nodded to Bexar who was half hiding behind Wolffe, “Koh-toh-ya, Bexar.”

“What’s that mean?”  Bexar asked.

Plo smiled, “It means hello among my people.”

“Oh,” Bexar said.

Plo stood up, “Go with Warthog, he’ll see you all settled, and I will join you soon.”

“Yes General,” Wolffe said, saluting him.

Plo’s heart ached as all of them followed Wolffe’s example.  He’d seen younglings do that before, sometimes after they’d helped protect their homes, and it had been something, but seeing these little boys do it was heartbreaking.

Warthog urged them to follow him away from the shuttle and they went, but Wolffe looked back over his shoulder at Plo up until he almost ran into another clone.  Plo turned to Jaran, “Let’s make that report.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Wolffe?”

Wolffe looked up from the bed he’d been making and smiled, “Bexar.”

Bexar tugged nervously on the hem of the cadet uniform that had been found for him.  Why there were cadet uniforms around, Wolffe wasn’t sure, and the adult who said he was Sinker had been really shifty about it.  That shifty side eye, and the way the one called Boost had snickered into his hand, and convinced Wolffe that this was his vod, all grown up.

“I’m scared,” Bexar whispered, inching closer to Wolffe.

Wolffe raised his arm and jerked his head slightly, all the sign Bexar needed to crowd in against Wolffe’s side as Wolffe sat down on the bunk.  Their other vod, Waxer, Boil, Fives, and Echo, were still in the refresher, so Wolffe took the time to not only pull Bexar in close, but rested his forehead against his brother.

“We’re here, and we’re together,” Wolffe murmured, “we’ll get through this.”

The door chime activated and Bexar scooted away, as if stung.  Wolffe sighed, then slid off the bed to go open the door.

Sinker was there with a tray.  “I brought some food up from the commissary,” he offered.

“Come on in,” Wolffe said, walking back over to sit on the bed as Fives and Echo came out of the refresher.

“We’re about to make the jump to hyperspace,” Sinker said as he put the tray on a table he unfolded from the wall.  “We’re to meet up with General Kenobi and General Skywalker.”

“Is General Val going with us?”  Echo asked.

“No,” Sinker shook his head, “Val and the 429th have other duties to get to.  About all that one would have been good for would be to activate that artifact again.”

“I liked him, he was funny,” Echo said.  “Fives thinks General Plo is scary.”  Fives smacked Echo on the shoulder, but didn’t say anything.

“General Val was terrified,” Wolffe said, he honestly didn’t think much of that General, and it sounded like Sinker thought the same.

“Everyone in the GAR knows Wolffe is Plo’s favored son,” Sinker said as he offered a plate of food to Wolffe.  “General Val was right to be terrified.”

“Son?”  Bexar said as he took a biscuit off Wolffe’s plate.

Sinker shrugged a little, “Plo adopted us as _aliit._   Wolffe, Boost, and I first, and then others, but that’s more because Wolffe is a suspicious bastard than anything.”

“What about Speedy?”  Wolffe asked, “Where’s he?  Did we get split up?”

Sinker flinched so hard that only Echo’s hands kept the plate he carried from falling.  “That, oh _vod’ika,_ that is not a question you want me to answer.”

“I do,” Wolffe said, “if you’re Sinker, then you know.  Tell me about our vod.”

“Wolffe, it’s a war,” Sinker said gently, “and they’ve marched ahead.  Me, you, and Bexar survived from the batch.”

Wolffe let Bexar curl into him, ignoring it as his brother took one of the meat strips off his plate to eat.  Waxer and Boil slipped nervously out of the ‘fresher, and Boil moved to take the plates that Sinker offered them.

“What about us?”  Echo asked, “Sergeant Warthog didn’t know what happened to us.”

“Now that, I know,” Sinker said, “Bexar actually told me when I asked why he wasn’t an ARC when the 501st’s got the original ARC line up, including their captain, Rex.  You two were rookies serving on one of the listening posts we’ve got, looking for Sep activity, on the Rishi System.  Most important listening post in the string, because that’s where you course correct for Kamino.  Damn Seps tried to take the base, but Captain Rex and Commander Cody were doing an inspection tour and landed there at the same time.  When you realized the beacon couldn’t be shut off, alerting the 501st and 212th that there was trouble, you figured out how to blow up the base.  Rex claimed the pair of you for ARC training in the 501st, I guess he figured you were crazy enough for Skywalker.”

“Is that our General?”  Echo asked as he handed Fives the plate of food.

“Yeah, but Skywalker’s had command of the 501st since he was a Padawan Commander.  I wasn’t there, I don’t have a confirm, but the general rumor is that he stole command of them from their last General because the guy wasn’t very good at leading, and the Council turned a blind eye to the matter.  When they promoted him, Anakin wouldn’t take another command.”

“Is Commander Cody in charge of the 501st then?”  Waxer asked.

“No, Cody’s 212th under Kenobi.  Skywalker’s commander is Captain Rex.  We’re pretty sure they’ve promoted Rex at least once, but trying to confirm is like pulling out a tooth.”  Sinker shook his head as he sat down on the floor.   “Skywalker’s also got a Padawan, Ahsoka Tano.  She’s not so bad, young, but not in a bad way.  She’s Togrutan, like General Ti.”

“What’s that?”  Boil asked.

Sinker hesitated, “Sorry, I forgot.  A Togrutan, they’ve got horns, er, montrals, and brain tails, not human, but nice folks.  Tano was found by Plo and brought to the Order and they’ve got a strong bond.  Saved my life once, that bond.  Thing is, Tano, Skywalker, and Rex are all three of them ARC crazy and they work together.  From what I’ve heard, you two fit right in over there.  On the other hand, there’s Commander Cody and General Kenobi.  Kenboi’s a High General, on the council, got a big command out here on the Outer Rim, so he’s pretty much by the book, and Cody’s just the same.”

“Sounds like it’s boring,” Boil said.

“I like boring,” Waxer retorted.

“Kid, that Twi’lek on your bucket isn’t because you’re crushing on General Secura,” Sinker said, “You met this kid on Ryloth, probably about the same age you are, named Numa.  She saw your ugly mugs and declared you were her ‘nerra’.  Then she helped you and the General free her village from a Sep occupation force.”

“What does that mean, nerra?”  Waxer asked.

“Brother,” Sinker said.  He tapped his fingers on his knee a moment, “Thing about Kenobi, or so Plo told me, is that Kenobi’s old Master was a rogue of a Jedi, best damn diplomat around, but clashed with the Council ‘bout everything, and Skywalker’s the same damn way, and he only knew the old Master for about a week.  Kenobi’s just as much of a rebel as either of them, but he keeps it button down most of the time.”

“You spend a lot of time with the General?”  Wolffe asked.

“Enough,” Sinker said, “I’ve got lead on the General’s PSD, Star Squad, especially when Stitch and Doctor Val have you tied down in medical.  We spend a lot of time in hyperspace, just talking.”

The door chimed again and Sinker turned his head, “Enter!”

The door slid open and General Koon stepped inside, “Lieutenant.”

“General,” Sinker said, standing up.  “I was just preparing them for Kenobi and Skywalker, as much as I could.”

“I presume that includes all the horror stories you could think of?”  General Plo asked.

“Nah, I haven’t touched on the best ones,” Sinker said.

“We will be rendezvousing with the 501st and the 212th on Alsaiir.  The planet’s been cleared, and we’ll combine our meeting with an assessment of the Jedi compound there,” General Plo said.  “We’ll be landing the cruisers for maintenance as well.”

“Understood sir,” Sinker said, “What’s our ETA?”

“Ten hours,” General Plo replied, he turned to look at Wolffe.  “As a courtesy, I ask you not to go into the maintenance and engine areas, or up to the bridge.  Other than that, you have the freedom of the ship.  I’ve asked Lodestar and his Star Squadron to be available should you need them, as well as Sinker.  I apologize that I cannot spend more time with you myself, but I have certain time sensitive tasks to complete.”

“Do you need help?”  Sinker asked.

“No,” General Plo said, “thankfully, Wolffe’s organization system is easy enough to sort out when it comes to it.”

Wolffe nibbled on the last meat strip on his plate as he watched Sinker and the General talk softly.  He could see the difference between how Sinker had been with just them, and with the General.  Here, Sinker was more aware of who the General was, and more aware that the six of them were in the room.  He wondered what it looked like when they were all the same age.  Did he call a General by his first name?

From the way General Plo looked over, Wolffe thought it was possible he did more than call the General by name.

“And don’t worry about Meija,” General Plo finished, “the Captains are setting up a rotation at Wolffe’s desk to be sure that I have the assistance I might need.  They know to look out for him.”

“Apparently, I’m just going to worry about the Captains,” Sinker said, “if there’s one datapad out of place, you know the Commander’s going run them ragged over it.”

“I’m sure he’ll be reasonable,” General Plo said.  “If you need assistance, do not be afraid to call me.  I’m more than willing to assist.”

“I will,” Sinker said, “never fear.”

General Plo glanced into the room again, and even with the goggles he wore, Wolffe knew that they were staring into each other’s eyes.  Something in his head shifted slightly, and he wasn’t sure why, but he thought the General felt a bit more at ease now than he had been.  Then the General backed out of the room and the door shut.


	5. Chapter 5

The first thing Plo did after taking off his mask was to put his head down on his desk and sigh.  Wolffe was fine, he’d seen him just minutes ago, and their bond, if not as strong as it had become, was open and he could tell that Wolffe was mostly doing okay.  It was just hard to reconcile his belligerent and protective son with this tiny child who watched him with an old man’s eyes.

Plo had just finished researching certain cultural rituals of the Mandalorians with the intent of discussing their implications with Wolffe, and now his son was lost.  While Plo appreciated the idea of being able to raise his son with fewer scars from the training on Kamino, he wanted _his son,_ his Wolffe, who had learned to trust him and who had let Plo earn his strongest loyalties.

Not that those qualities weren’t there, as Plo had been distracted by watching as Bexar pointedly helped himself to most of the food on Wolffe’s plate and ignoring the plate on the desk that Sinker had probably meant for him.  Wolffe had allowed it, holding the plate where Bexar could get to it, and only acting to ensure he got one of the meat strips for himself as he watched Plo talk to Sinker.

Plo had no doubt that if one of the others had tried to get food from him, Wolffe would have handed the plate to Bexar and then thoroughly established his territory, including his brother.

Plo made himself raise his head and pull one of the datapads closer to him so that he could start working on it.  The Captains had after action reports, causality reports, and the medical reports to compile, but Wolffe had specifically mentioned that he was behind on the supply reports for the non-essentials.  Medical supplies, food, and general energy packs were priorities, but things like extra black under armor, spare armor pieces, and the paint that had been found everywhere from the gunships and the armor to the various barracks were starting run low.

As Plo approved the first requisition, for tattoo inks, he wondered who was getting the new designs, and if he’d be able to see them.  A lot of the shinies had adopted that Plo’s Bros artwork as a badge of honor, while Sinker and Boost seemed dead set on making the wolf and bear paws some sort of clan marking.

A sudden surge of irritation came down the bond from Wolffe, and Plo’s head jerked up.  He reached out, not for Wolffe, but for the less familiar sense of Sinker.  Sinker wasn’t as adept at telling when Plo was there, but Plo could discern enough, both from the sharp pain in Sinker’s skin and the clear sense that yes, Wolffe still disliked being teased.

Plo smiled to himself, because Wolffe was fine.  He reached into the Force, hoping that sending a little bit of calm to the boy, he would settle down.  The Force, however, didn’t respond calmly, it surged into his mind, quickly showing him an image of a human girl, clearly at the start of the transition to adulthood.  She had dark skin, with the sky-blue clan markings that Doctor Val and Knight Val shared, but her golden-brown eyes and sly smirk were Wolffe to the core.  Her hair was tightly braided in small braids, each of which had a dark grey, sky blue, and crimson bead on them.  In her hands was a light staff with an odd, circular handle and a blue and green blade.  Wolffe’s daughter, Plo realized, and probably Doctor Val’s, complete with her father’s knack for and enjoyment of trouble hidden in her smirk and her eyes.  And, his Padawan one day, Plo realized.

As the Force vision released him, Plo wondered what the girl would really be like, and how much trouble was he going to be fishing her out of one day.

The chime for entrance sounded and Plo reached out to see who was there.  Doctor Val, mask in place.

“Enter,” Plo called, setting aside the datapad.

Doctor Val stepped in, looking tired, “I brought our medical requisitions, General, and our report on the… boys.”

“And what is your personal assessment,” Plo asked.

Doctor Val put the datapads she carried on Plo’s desk and took a seat, “Despite the General’s sweeping assessment of them all being six years old, the truth is that they’re different ages.  Wolffe and Bexar are closer in age to being eight than to six, with Waxer close to them in age.  Boil is younger, but according to his records he’s about a year younger than Boil anyways, and Fives and Echo are six.  Medically, they are good examples of their current age, if a bit underfed for their activity levels.  I told Lieutenant Sinker to feed them something now, and if they’re awake, we’ll provide them with more food every four hours.”

“Shaak Ti reported that they were being underfed compared to their activity level,” Plo said thoughtfully.  “We had to reprogram the commissary droids to allow for continuous meals to ensure they were eating a proper calorie count.”

“I had read those reports,” Doctor Val said, her expression darkening slightly.  “Apparently it was attributed to a miscalculation in the difference between the genetic modifications they made and the human standards for that level of activity.”  She blinked after a moment and looked at him with a wry smile, “I found Wolffe and Bexar to be interesting and engaging men in their own ways, but these children.  I wouldn’t say it to Wolffe’s face, but his protective posturing is more adorable than threatening at that age.”

“I’ll keep that secret for you,” Plo said, “and in return, I will say that I had the same thought.”

“One thing I did notice is that Fives hasn’t spoken,” Doctor Val continued, “I managed to get him to say yes earlier, but he definitely prefers for Echo to speak for him.”

“Is that something we should be concerned about?”  Plo asked.

“I think it might be best as the moment to let Fives set his own boundaries.  He can speak, and he will when he’s ready.”

There was a warning in the Force, one that had Plo standing and calling his mask to hand before he’d even fully processed it.  By the time Plo had rounded the desk, his door was beeping an alarm for someone opening it.

“What,” Doctor Val said, also standing.

By the time the door open cycle finished, Plo noticed that Doctor Val had a holdout blaster out and pointed at the door.  Plo could feel the air pressure changing, and then he heard someone gasp and begin coughing.

“What are you doing!”

That was Captain Reed, who should have been on duty out there.

The door finished swinging open, revealing the collapsed form of a somewhat familiar officer with Captain Reed standing over him.  Doctor Val dashed past Plo, shoving her blaster in her belt as she knelt, carefully turned the officer enough that Plo could see his face.  It was Bart Mejia, the comm officer that Wolffe had an ongoing feud with over the delivery of Plo’s comm messages.  Plo stepped through the door and pushed it shut, telekinetically flipping the switch that would cause a rush of oxygen into the area and assist in flushing out the dangerous gases from his office, one of the safety precautions in place to prevent these things from happening.

“Captain Reed,” Plo said.

Reed, looking terrified and stressed held out his hands as he tried not to cough as Mejia was doing.

“I don’t know, sir.  I stepped away to the ‘fresher, and when I came back he was opening the door.”

“I have a medical emergency on deck seven, outside the General’s office,” Doctor Val said into her comm, cutting through their conversation.  “Two oxygen units and the kit for Dorin gas inhalation.”

“The General?”  Someone asked over the comm.

“Had his mask on,” Val said, “move your ass, Fingers.”

“Coming sir.”

Plo tapped his mask, then held out his hand, listening to Mejia’s thoughts.  What he found there led to him returning to his quarters for meditation to gain understanding.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not a look of disdain, fyi. Fives just doesn't know the right word.

When they landed on Alsaiir, Fives made sure to keep close to Echo.  He wondered if they would meet the rest of their unit with General Skywalker, and had whispered as much to Echo when everyone else was asleep.

“I don’t think so,” Echo had said, looking troubled, “the Lieutenant didn’t mention them, and I think he would have.”

Fives had decided to let Echo worry, Fives intended to have faith.  And he did, right up until they were facing General Skywalker and Captain Rex.  The Captain must have seen him looking at the brothers with the blue uniforms, because for a long moment their eyes had met, and Fives had known.

Then, they were being surrounded by the brothers in blue, all of whom were talking and laughing as they stared.  Fives made himself stay still, to look at each of them in turn as he heard them speak, to match names with faces as best he could.  He couldn’t help that he was shaking and he wanted to shift so that his shoulder touched Echo’s more, because he wouldn’t hold Echo’s hand, even if Echo would let him.  Not in the face of these brothers, with their war scars and loud voices.  Loud friendly voices became loud angry voices far too easily.

“All right everyone, back off.”  That was General Skywalker coming forward, “Come on guys, I know it’s unusual but they aren’t the entertainment part of this mission.  We’ve still got work to do anyways.  Captains, see Rex for your assignments, Lieutenants, check with your captains and so forth down the line.”  He smiled at Fives and Echo, “Sorry about that.  I’m General Anakin Skywalker, but you can call me Anakin for now.”

“Lieutenant Sinker said you were _our_ General,” Echo offered after a moment.

“I am,” Anakin agreed, “but it’s okay to call me Anakin if you want.”

Fives tilted his head a little as he put his hands behind his back.  General Skywalker seemed nice enough, and he’d cleared away the crowd, but there was something that made Fives uneasy.  He wasn’t sure if it was actually Skywalker himself, but Fives was pretty sure Echo felt it too.

“So, you’ll stay with the other four on General Plo’s ship,” Skywalker said after a moment, “but if you want to see the _Valiant,_ I’ve asked for Lieutenant Jesse to show you around.  Since I’m pretty sure Kix wants to give you a checkup for his own understanding, that should take care of that as well.”

“Kix, sir?”  Echo asked.

“Our CMO,” General Skywalker said, “sorry, I forgot you wouldn’t remember.  Major Kix is in charge of everyone, so don’t be surprised if he wants to examine you two.  If you don’t want to, you don’t have to, but don’t be surprised if he gets grumpy over it.”

Fives leaned over and whispered, “Ask him.”

Echo glanced at Fives, frowning at him, then back at the General.

“Ask him,” Fives insisted.

“Ask me what?”  General Skywalker asked, crouching down to look Fives in the eye.

Fives did _not_ squeak, or hide, but he did stand still when Echo stepped half in front of him.  “Fives wants to know what happened to our unit, sir.”

Something flashed across the General’s face, “Your unit?  From Kamino.”

Echo nodded, “We know they aren’t _here.”_

General Skywalker looked reluctant for a long moment, then thoughtful, “I know they died heroes.  If you want the full story, ask Captain Rex.  He was there when it happened.”  He stood up, “For now, I’m going to hand you over to Jesse.  He’ll see to it you have what you need, Master Koon and Master Obi-Wan and I have a meeting.”

“Sir,” Echo said and saluted, with Fives a step behind.

There was an odd look on the General’s face before he bowed to them and stepped way, signaling another clone to come over as he did.  They conferred a moment.

“Fives,” Echo said softly, “don’t get in trouble.”

“I know,” Fives said, equally quietly, “that’s your job.”

“Fives,” Echo yelped, jerked his elbow around to hit Fives in the ribs.  Fives danced away, just escaping the hit.  He stuck his tongue out at Echo who threw himself forward, catching Fives and knocking him over into the dirt.  Fives shoved up, trying to get the grip that would allow him to flip Echo, even as Echo grabbed his shirt in an attempt to hold him long enough to get in a good punch.

Before either of them could finish their maneuver, Echo was pulled off Fives, who stared as Echo floated up, and then back.  One of the yellow armored troops took hold of Echo’s arm once Echo touched down and Fives scrambled to his feet, only to find himself held still by, he glanced up, the clone that General Skywalker had been speaking with, the one with the cog on his face.

General Koon stepped between Fives and Echo, flanked by General Skywalker, and a man with reddish blond hair, and a lightsaber.

“Fives and Echo,” the unknown General said, casting a look at General Skywalker, “I am both surprised and not surprised.”

“How does that work exactly, General Kenobi?”  General Koon asked.

“To be honest, I thought Commander Wolffe would be involved in the first fight,” General Kenobi replied, “but that it would be Fives and Echo fighting, I’m not surprised.”

The look that General Kenobi gave General Skywalker now reminded Fives of some of the looks the trainers had given him and his unit over the years.  The look that said that they were living _down_ to their lowest potential, not up to their highest.  CT-798 had told him it was called disdain.  It wasn’t quite the same though, Fives thought, there was something he couldn’t identify in General Kenobi’s look.  Still, that difference didn’t change the fact that he’d _spoken badly about Fives’s General._   Fives caught sight of Echo, with his chin jutted out and his eyes narrowed, the look he got whenever that disdained look had been pointed at one of theirs.

Echo would know what to do, Fives decided as Echo looked over at him.  Echo always knew what to do.

“I’m sorry, Generals,” Echo said, “it was a philoseph’col debate that got out of hand.”

The vod holding Fives snorted softly.

“See that it doesn’t happen again, and we’ll overlook it this time,” General Skywalker said easily.  “Now, I believe we had a meeting to get to, Master Plo, Master Obi-Wan.”

Once the generals were gone, Fives wiggled free of the vod holding him and darted over to Echo, grabbing his arm as soon as he could and hanging on.  Echo leaned over, bumping their heads together gently.

“Sorry, Fives,” Echo said.

“All right, Shinies,” the vod who had been holding Fives said, “I’m Lieutenant Jesse, I’m supposed to give you a tour of the _Valiant_ if you’ve settled your philosophical differences.”

“Could we see the other one, the _Negotiator,_ too?”  Echo asked.

“Well now, that’s not up to me,” Jesse said, “you’d have to ask Commander Cody about that.”

A hand fell on Fives’s shoulder and he looked up at the vod who was still holding Echo.

“Hello, _vod’ika,_ I’m Commander Cody.” 

 


	7. Chapter 7

It was too hot, and from the feel of it, Waxer was sleeping on him again.  Boil shifted as much as he could and shoved at Waxer’s shoulder, “Move over.”

Waxer moved all right, he flopped over and disappeared with a thud.  Boil sat up and stared as Waxer also sat up, “What’d you do that for?”

“I didn’t,” Boil began, then trailed off.  “Waxer, we’ve aged up.”

They had been sleeping in the large black undershirts that were usually worn under their armor, the shirts had fallen past Boil’s knees.  Now, it sat just below his waistline like it was supposed to, and Boil scrambled to settle the blanket over his hips.

“Kriff Boil,” Waxer said, looking at himself, “how the hell?”

“Do you think they got General Val back?”  Boil asked.  They had been little for three weeks, and it was very disconcerting to remember some of the things they’d done and gotten away with as kids.  He turned, “Wolffe, wake up!”

Wolffe jerked up with a snort, “What?”

“We’re fixed,” Boil said.

Wolffe blinked at him a minute and then looked down at himself, “I see that.”  He stood up and moved to the closet that held their clothes.

“What are you doing?”  Waxer asked.

“I’m going to go let General Plo know,” Wolffe said.

Bexar slid off the bed after his brother, seemingly unconcerned that he was, in fact, naked, and reached past his brother to retrieve one of the dark grey ship uniforms.

“Wake up Fives and Echo,” Wolffe said, “we’ll be back.”  He headed into the ‘fresher with Bexar on his heels.

Waxer got up and went to grab a pair of pants to go with his shirt, and threw a pair of pants at Boil, who moved to get dressed. 

“You want to wake the weirdos?”  Boil asked.

“You know, having met you as a cadet, I still don’t know how you got so mean,” Waxer said, “and I’m disappointed with the idea you were made that way.”

Boil stood up and offered Waxer a little smile, “Well, someone had to make sure you didn’t get yourself hurt, Wax.  You love everyone.”  He leaned over to kiss his partner.

“I said wake them up, not whatever that is,” Wolffe said, making Boil jump and knock foreheads with Waxer.

“Working on it,” Boil muttered as he reached up to rub his forehead.

“Too late, already saw Wolffe’s ass,” a sleepy voice announced.

“And way more than I ever wanted to see,” a second one said.

Boil glanced at the blanket pile in the third bunk speculatively.

“For the record,” one of them said, voice still to muffled to be certain which one, “we switched back in second shift, pretty much all at once.”

“And you didn’t wake us?”  Wolffe asked.

“Sorry Commander sir, but we don’t share.”

Bexar snorted and strode over, yanking on the blankets.  They flew away, leaving a metal disk in the center of two piles of pillows.

“Where the hell are you two idiots now?”  Wolffe asked.

Boil shook his head as Waxer buried his head in Boil’s shoulder.  For all that Lieutenant Sinker had been their minder for the past few weeks, Wolffe had been their leader, and he’d dragged those two out of _everywhere_ on all three ships.

“Preserving our lives,” Fives said, his voice now distinct.  “Commander Cody’s going to dismember us.”

“What did you do to the Commander?”  Boil demanded, already trying to come up with contingencies to deal with this.

“Pranked General Kenobi,” Echo said, his voice oddly muffled and squeaky.

“You’re on your own,” Boil decided, “I have no knowledge of your activities.”

“Cody is going to _kill_ you two,” Waxer declared, almost gleefully.

“Forget the Commander,” Boil said, “ _I’m_ going to kill them.  We’re going to be doing inspections and drills for weeks, and that’s if he’s feeling generous.”

“It won’t be that bad,” Waxer said.

Boil shook his head, “Optimist.”

“Pessimist,” Waxer retorted.

Wolffe slammed the closet shut, “As long as you two aren’t on _my_ ship, I don’t care.  Waxer, Boil, you should check in with your people.  I’m sure they’ll be delighted to see you.  Bexar, let’s go.”

Boil shook his head up and stood up, reaching for his armor as Waxer tossed the blankets back on the empty bunk.

“You have to admit, it’ll be interesting if they can actually prank the General,” Waxer mused.

“No, it won’t,” Boil said, “because it can’t be done.  All that’ll happen is a mess and Cody will have to settle it.  They’re idiots, lacking what little brains they’re supposed to have.”

“We can hear you, you know,” came from the wad of blankets.

“Good,” Boil muttered.

* * *

Wolffe strode down the hall towards Plo’s office, Bexar steps behind him.  Turning slightly, Wolffe said, “You’d better let Sinker know we’ve reversed, and get some people out digging up Fives and Echo.  We’re going to be leaving soon and I don’t want to accidently keep them.”

“On it Wolffe,” Bexar replied and peeled off.

Wolffe sighed softly, thankful that there were times when Bexar just understood what he wouldn’t and couldn’t say.  He rounded the door to his office and frowned at finding his desk empty.  He checked and confirmed the occupied light was on and glanced around, there should be a captain at that desk, that was SOP when Wolffe had to be away.  He retrieved a breathing mask and hit the button to request entrance.  Moments later, he felt the warm, there-and-gone touch of Plo reaching out with the Force, and then the door opened with the soft alarm that was used to indicate the difference in atmospheres.

By the time the door had opened enough for Wolffe to slide inside, Plo was halfway across the room, mask in place.  Wolffe reached over to trigger the door close, and then closed the distance between him and his friend.

“Koh-to-yah,” Plo murmured.

“Plo,” Wolffe replied, reaching out.  Plo took his arm in the Mandalorian grip and then pulled him in for a quick hug.

“I am glad you are back,” Plo said as they parted, “I had worried.”

“I didn’t,” Wolffe said.  “I knew when we got off that shuttle that you were more than just my General.  Didn’t understand what we were, but I knew that much, and I never forgot.”

Plo nodded slightly, “I am glad to have you back.  The thought of having a young Wolffe in my care was enticing, I’ll admit that, but I found that I preferred the you that I have come to know.”

Wolffe swallowed, and stepped back a bit, “Did anything else interesting happen while we were kids?”

Plo, perhaps recognizing Wolffe’s unease, also stepped back, returning to his seat behind his desk, “I have solved the mystery of Bart Mejia.”

“That comm officer who keeps trying to come in here?”  Wolffe asked.

“The very one,” Plo nodded.

“What’s wrong with him?”  Wolffe asked.

“He’s a father to a trio of beautiful and talented girls who lost their mother to an illness,” Plo said.  “With his talents, Mejia’s requests to transfer to a planet posting to be with his daughters was denied, and he was essentially told that only a lasting injury would get him such a posting.  Breathing Dorin gas, even in a regulated amount, must have seemed a fair compromise.”

“Damaged lungs,” Wolffe pointed out.

“He considers it a fair price to pay,” Plo replied.  “I’ve already written the orders to send him to a planetary recovery unit, and the girls’ grandparents will bring them when Mejia’s secured a home for them.”

“Wish he’d spoken to us about it,” Wolffe said, “there had to have been a better way.”

“Unfortunately for us, he did not see it that way,” Plo said.  He tapped a stack of folders on his desk, “I also completed the non-essential requisitions.  In the future, Wolffe, you may ask me to take some of these on.  I had not been aware that there was a backlog of requisitions.”

Wolffe’s heart skipped a beat, “You approved all of them?”

“Should I not have?”  Plo asked.

“Some of them shouldn’t have been,” Wolffe said, thinking of the dozen or so joke requests he’d buried at the bottom of the stack, given that they couldn’t be deleted without resolution and he hadn’t wanted to dignify the requests with any kind of response.

“While I’m sure the men will appreciate the dozen ‘appropriately attired’ ladies,” Plo said, “I’m afraid I did have to decline some of them.  Also, I’m not quite sure what a lothcat is, but if the encyclopedia was accurate, then we do not need any live ones onboard the ship.”

“I was going to get them some stuffed ones,” Wolffe admitted after a moment, “I know that was Bexar and Sinker.”

“Perhaps we should,” Plo steepled his fingers and leaned forward, “but simply handing them over does not seem appropriate.”

Wolffe settled into one of the other chairs, “I’m listening, Plo, what do you have in mind?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I futzed this one, I couldn't figure out what I wanted to do with it. So I ended it, hopefully on a good note.


End file.
